‘Fantastic! The fries are hand-cooked, you know, using their own potatoes that they grow here on the island.’
Was she going to be allowed to have an opinion? Did they make their own paper by hand round the back to wrap the gyros in as well?
Grace bit through a layer of toasted pitta bread and took a mouthful of the soft pork, along with some tzatziki– yoghurt shot through with cucumber and herbs– as well as onion and fresh tomato. The combination exploded in her mouth. Will might be a know-it-all, but he certainly knew where to get a decent gyro. Grace added some chips to the next mouthful and the taste was even better.
‘I have to admit, this is sensational. That’s one-nil to you.’
He needn’t look quite so smug.
* * *
Settled with more beers and some popcorn in the outdoor cinema, Grace looked around her. It certainly was one step up from a typical British cinema, where you were crammed indoors together with giggling teenagers and elderly people unwrapping sweets.
The huge screen was set against a backdrop of old buildings several storeys high, with lights coming on and off in some of the windows. Black metal chairs were laid out in rows in a walled garden where climbing plants produced flashes of red and pink. On either side of the rows of chairs was a series of brick-built nooks meant for couples, with just enough room for two to squeeze in together.
She and Will had swerved those and opted for two chairs in a row halfway down. The air was warm, and the sound of people talking and laughing on the other side of the walls made it feel cosy. Twenty minutes in, she knew the film wasn’t for her. Although it featured a big Hollywood actor that she’d been quite keen on years ago, he hadn’t aged well, and the script was tortuous. The dialogue was so stilted it was hard to empathise with any of the characters.
Each time Hollywood Guy felt moody, he’d go down to the beach and play the flute, badly, for some reason. She presumed it replaced the need for actual acting. The first time he did it, she just found it bizarre, but the second and third times made her want to giggle. The fourth sight of him gazing out to sea while trying to hold a tune had her pinching her hand to stop herself from laughing.
She stole a glance at Will. It wasn’t completely dark; the exit signs gave enough light to see that his shoulders were shaking. That started her off too, and she had to cover a snort with a cough.
Will pointed with his thumb towards the exit and she nodded. Crouching low, they made their way out of the cinema and down the steps to the square, before they both let rip, letting the laughter pour out. Grace had tears running down her face as she held onto her knees.
‘God, that was truly terrible, wasn’t it?’
Will was still bent double.
‘Stop it. I can’t breathe. I haven’t laughed like that in years.’
‘It’s certainly one-all now after that. You won’t be allowed to choose another film, that’s for sure.’
Will saluted from his new position, before managing to stand up straight.
‘Agreed.’
He took another deep breath.
‘Quick drink?’
‘No more alcohol, thanks. I’ve got work in the morning.’
‘Me too, let’s make it a coffee in the port and then I can escort you home.’
‘There’s really no need. I can look after myself.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But I arranged the worst cinema outing ever, so it’s only fair I see you back.’
‘OK, you win.’
They set off towards the port, passing through the marble-lined streets at a lick. Grace matched him stride for stride despite their difference in height. Will seemed surprised. But she supposed she couldn’t blame him. The last time they’d walked down to the port together, she’d been over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night, so she upped her pace even more. Will was the one who stopped for a breather first.
‘Slow down a sec. Are you a hiker by any chance?’
‘I am. I walk everywhere at home in Oxfordshire, and I love to go for a good old yomp at the weekends.’
Will smiled. ‘Yomp’s a great word, isn’t it?’
Was he taking the mickey?
